


Apollo

by Lilactrees



Series: Original Writings [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Just a little something I wrote, Mythology - Freeform, Mythology References, No Romance, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Very Mild Gore, apollo is there so, well i mean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:54:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24552712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilactrees/pseuds/Lilactrees
Summary: One day the sun falls out of the sky.Short exploratory (original) fiction.
Series: Original Writings [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1774624





	Apollo

The first time I see him, I think I am dreaming. The school hallways are dark— too dark for it to be daytime. I can’t see. In the moment, I am filled with a terror so violent it surprises me. I can’t _see—_ panic seems to push all the air out of my lungs, and I blink and flail in vain in a darkness so complete I never thought it possible. In the moment, the world is a stranger I am encountering for the first time. The realization slips like an icy blade down my spine, as I see suddenly that _until_ _this moment_ , I have been living in a world that I have never truly looked in the face. I stumble blindly through the blackness towards the light that pools beneath a single door frame, fueled by an ancient instinct, for the first time understanding what it must have felt like to be the first human in a foreign world. ( _A golden arrow blooms from the dark wood, splinters raised and quivering like a crater around it._ )

When I open the door, I am blasted by a searing heat, and a scream is wrenched from my chest as my eyes are pierced by white. ( _Blinded by darkness and then by light— and is there a difference, I wonder?_ ) I can’t see. My retinas burn, and I force my eyes closed, and then force my eyes open, and find it makes no difference. The heat is all encompassing. The light is all consuming. In the moment I am sure both have been branded into my skin and eyes forever. My eyes slowly, _impossibly_ adjust, but secretly I wonder if I am a blind woman now, and all I see are memories of visions, scenes built in my mind. At first, there is nothing but blazing, formless light. I blink and squint, my irises fluttering and flitting desperately for something— _anything_ —other than _white_. Gradually, the light becomes a shape, and the shape becomes a person.

In the center of the classroom there sits a boy at a desk. His hair is white-hot and wild, and beneath his golden skin the desk he sits at bubbles and boils and slowly melts away to nothing. Flames lick at his glowing arms, flicker in his glowing eyes, tangle in his glowing hair. He wraps a tendril around his golden pinky— and notices me. 

Scorching sunlight fills my lungs, and holy terror fills my heart. 

I run. 

When I see him again, I am certain I am awake, and I check the time over and over, because there is no sun outside, and it is too dark for it to be daytime. It almost hurts to look at him—his golden skin and his perfect face— if I stare too long black spots eat away at my vision, and madness flickers in my mind. My eyes still ring from the first time I saw him, the world perpetually dappled with phantom sunlight. He speaks, and it feels like being burned alive. For days my ears echo with the sound of stars exploding. His gleaming teeth flash white when he smiles, and he looks as cruel as he is beautiful. 

“I am Apollo,” he says, and I believe him. ( _After light, there is only darkness. After darkness, there is only light.)_

I only question him twice, and it takes all the courage in my body. My heart pounds with adoration or with fear, and my skin blisters and peels off my bones. 

“If you are Apollo,” I say, “then why are you here?”

“Where is ‘here’?” He asks, the first time. ( _It’s no use, my courage has been used up. My words choke in my throat before I can respond, and threads of air whisper from my lungs. I can’t give an answer. I can’t even think._ )

The second time, his molten eyes narrow. A golden hand tightens on a golden bow. 

“You dare question a god?” He says. 

( _And_ _I do not._ )

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This envisioning of Apollo is very heavily based off of a description I read where he's a student in a classroom (shout out to Ambiguous from Quotev... your yandere quizzes had some of the rawest imagery I've ever read in my life)


End file.
